#JSDFKOI

[wiinestories]

closed starter for @shelbysdevil | tommy x agatha.

Heels clicked sharply against the marble concrete, the rhythm steady, confident, as though each step held purpose. The sound echoed faintly before softening when her boots crossed the threshold onto the green expanse of the field. The leather creaked slightly with the shift in terrain, but she didn’t slow her pace. Ahead of Agatha stretched the ample, windswept field, the horizon just barely meeting the haze of the city beyond. This assignment shouldn’t be too tricky to handle. In theory, at least. Her mission was clear: gather information, infiltrate the Shelby family. Get close enough to understand their world without being devoured by it. Simple, on paper. But anyone with half a brain knew that no one got close to the Shelbys without consequences. They were a family with a reputation as sharp as the blades they wielded, as untouchable as the empire they’d built brick by brick.

Agatha adjusted the brim of her hat, its wide edges casting a shadow over her soft features as she surveyed the pristine stables. The air was rich with the scent of hay and leather, a familiar comfort that steadied her nerves. Horses had always been her domain—graceful, powerful creatures she understood better than most people. This assignment leaned heavily on that expertise, a calculated move by the Black Vultures. They knew she’d blend seamlessly into the equestrian world, her knowledge convincing enough to disarm even the sharp-eyed Shelbys. Her new name—Selene Harrington—rolled around in her head like an unfamiliar melody. It was elegant, wealthy, and believable. She wasn’t just playing a role; she had to become Selene Harrington, a woman whose wealth and prestige matched her love for horses. A woman the Shelbys would welcome, not suspect.

She adjusted the silk scarf at her neck, her fingers steady despite the storm brewing beneath the surface. To the outside world, she was Selene—a woman of refinement, poised and unshakable. To the Shelbys, she’d be an opportunity: a wealthy horse owner looking to collaborate, invest, or simply talk shop. But beneath the fine clothing and the practiced smile, Agatha was acutely aware of the danger. The Shelbys weren’t fools. They were predators, every bit as dangerous as the Black Vultures, if not more. Thomas Shelby in particular was known for sniffing out lies like a bloodhound. If he sensed even the slightest inconsistency in her story, the entire plan would unravel—and so would she. Still, she’d done her research. She knew their interests, their connections in the horse racing world, and the gaps in their operations that a woman like Selene could conveniently fill. She wasn’t just walking into their den unarmed; she was prepared. Every word, every gesture, every glance had been rehearsed until it felt natural.

The sound of tires on cobblestones pulled her attention. A sleek black car had arrived in the distance, its occupants likely unaware that Selene Harrington was already waiting to greet them. Agatha took a deep breath, her lips curving into a practised smile that held just the right balance of charm and disinterest. As the car came to a halt, she stepped forward, the picture of confidence, her boots clicking against the stone with every deliberate step. The Shelbys would come to see her as an ally, an asset. And if they didn’t? The Black Vultures hadn’t given her an option for failure.

Upon witnessing the sight of the man who was her main target, Selene didn’t falter. Every detail had been carefully rehearsed, and now it was time to execute. She stepped forward, her movements graceful, deliberate, as though she belonged here as much as the horses in the stables. "Mister Shelby," she began, her voice smooth and confident, the faintest trace of a posh accent woven into her words. She extended her gloved hand with practiced ease, her posture exuding both elegance and approachability. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Selene. Selene Harrington." Her blue hues met his unflinchingly, holding the kind of composure she knew would matter to a man like him. She had studied enough about Thomas Shelby to understand the game—confidence was currency, and hesitation could be fatal.